


Through the dark there is light

by thegirl20



Series: One more round (Emma/Terri) [3]
Category: Glee
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-26
Updated: 2012-12-26
Packaged: 2017-11-22 12:10:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/609676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegirl20/pseuds/thegirl20
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was never meant to be like this.  (Set in the timeframe of 'Home'.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Through the dark there is light

You’re sitting in your car outside her condo, tapping your fingers on the steering wheel. You shouldn’t be here. You’ve never done this before; come to her house. You’re not the seeker, you’re what is sought. She needs you, not the other way around. But then, it was never meant to be like this.   
  
She changed everything the night she turned up on your doorstep, barefoot and determined. She wasn’t supposed to call the shots. She wasn’t supposed to kiss you with a tenderness that made you ache. She wasn’t supposed to look into your eyes while her fingers slid deep inside you. And you weren’t supposed to like it. You shouldn’t smile when you think of her. You shouldn’t wonder how she’s feeling. You shouldn’t care.   
  
The lights are on and her car is in the driveway. You could just drive home. You  _should_  drive home. You could go in and lock the door to your shitty little apartment. You could turn the lights out and slip into your uncomfortable bed. You could lie in the dark and touch yourself. You could think of Will and remind yourself of how things should be.  
  
Instead, you open the car door.  
  
*  
  
Her face registers no surprise when she opens the door to find you standing there. A small smile pulls at the edge of her mouth, like she’s fighting it.  
  
“Terri.”  
  
You like how your name sounds on her tongue.   
  
“Emma. Can I come in?”  
  
You hear the question coming out of your mouth and right away you know you’re on the back foot. You’ve never asked permission from her for anything. You walk in without waiting for an answer. Her house is immaculate, as you knew it would be. She closes the door and turns to face you. This all feels very familiar, only you’re wearing shoes and you’re fully dressed. You feel trapped.  
  
“I came for my shoes.”  
  
For the briefest of seconds, she smirks. She actually smirks at your pitiful lie. Like she thinks she’s got the upper hand. You can’t have that. That’s your role and she’s not taking it. The fire of your fury is sufficiently stoked. You’re propelled forward, your hands grab her upper arms and push. You slam her against the closed door, ignoring the pang in your chest when you hear the crack her head makes as it hits the wood. She cries out but you yank her chin around, putting your mouth next to her ear.  
  
“Don’t  _ever_  smirk at me like that,” you hiss, putting every drop of vitriol you can summon into the words.  
  
“Sorry, I didn’t realise you had it trademarked,” she says, her jaw fighting the grip you have on her face.  
  
You pull back and look at her. She looks back defiantly. You let go of her face and before you know what’s happening, her lips are covering your own. You open your mouth on instinct and her tongue flicks out, almost shyly. It snaps you back to reality and you bite down on her bottom lip, breaking the skin. She pulls away with a pained yelp. Her hand flies to her mouth and comes away with blood on her fingertips. She looks up at you with those big, damn sad eyes. You push away any remorse you might be feeling and grab her wrist, pulling her behind you as you stalk up the hallway, shoving doors open until you find her bedroom.  
  
You throw her down on the bed without ceremony and climb on top of her, straddling her waist. She’s still cradling her mouth and it's only when you pull her hand away from her lip that she appears to register what’s happening.  
  
“Terri...” she starts but you don’t let her finish.   
  
You pull at her blouse, the fabric ripping and buttons giving way under the pressure. It falls off her shoulders and she looks at the ruined material and back up at you with questions in her eyes. She reaches up to cup your cheek but you turn your face away and slam her wrists down onto the bed. She strains up and brushes her lips against yours but again you jerk away. When you turn back to face her, your eyes are burning.  
  
“Stop it, stop trying to make this what it isn’t,” you growl, squeezing her wrists until she whimpers.  
  
“Terri that hurts,” she says in a rush.  
  
“Good,” you spit. “You had it all your way last time...now it’s my turn.”  
  
You manoeuvre your body so that you’re lying on top of her. You insinuate your thigh between hers, bending your knee quickly so that it rams into her centre. She gasps. You lower your head to her breasts, sucking her nipple into your mouth, hard. She squirms under you and you move your mouth up, sucking hard enough to make a mark on the top of her breast. She whimpers again, but she sounds different. You don’t want to look at her but you can’t help it. You raise your head and find her wide eyed, with tears running down her face. Something clenches inside you.  
  
“Terri...you’re scaring me,” she whispers.  
  
You close your eyes and shake your head. You don’t  _care_  if you’re scaring her. You don’t  _care_  how she feels. This is about you showing her that. You let go of one of her wrists and lift your hips to slip your hand between your bodies, popping her jeans open. She shakes her head and pushes at your shoulder with her free hand, struggling to free her other one.  
  
“Terri...no...Terri...stop!”  
  
You freeze, your fingertips just underneath the lace of her panties. You can taste bile at the back of your throat and you push yourself up and off her, turning away and sitting on the edge of the bed. Your hands are shaking as you rake them through your hair. A stifled sob comes from behind you and it’s enough to get you up and moving.   
  
You’re almost at the door when she catches you. Surprisingly strong arms go around your waist from behind and she presses her face against your hair.  
  
“Stay,” she breathes, her voice still thick with tears. “I...it’s okay...I get it...I just...I don’t want you to go.”  
  
You hesitate. Your hands automatically cover hers where they rest around your midsection. It feels good; to be held. You lean back into her and consider her request. You could stay. You could make up for what you just did. You could make her feel good, she could make you feel good. It’s appealing. But if you stay it would mean something. It would mean that you  _wanted_  to stay.  
  
“No,” you say, through a painful lump in your throat.  
  
Slowly, you peel her arms from your body and step away from her, immediately missing the warmth at your back.  
  
“Terri...” she starts again, her hand on your elbow, urging you to turn around and face her.  
  
You school your face into one of indifference before you do. It almost slips when you see her face. She looks so sad, so desperate, that for the first time you feel truly ashamed. You do the only thing that you can think of that might redeem you.  
  
“Emma, go back to Will. He’s...just go back to him.”  
  
She’s shaking her head.  
  
“I don’t want him. I told you already, you’re all I think about,” she whispers, looking so earnest that you want to shake her and tell her not to be so damn stupid.  
  
Instead you shrug her hand off your arm and raise an eyebrow.  
  
“Well, I can’t say I spend any time thinking about you, honey,” the lie tastes bitter in your mouth. “So you’d be best to forget whatever cosy little fantasies you have about the two of us. I’m. Not. Interested.”  
  
She recoils from the disdain in your voice, but rallies herself quickly. She folds her arms across her chest, drawing your attention back to her ruined shirt and bringing on another wave of shame.  
  
“You’re lying.”  
  
She says it with absolute certainty. No hint of doubt. It’s the surest you’ve seen her of anything. You laugh in spite of yourself.  
  
“Am I now?” you drawl, asking yourself as much as her.  
  
“Yes. You are,” she affirms with a nod. “You  _are_  interested, and it terrifies you.”  
  
You breathe in deeply through your nose before letting out a sigh. The fight has gone out of you and now you just want to leave.  
  
“You’re reading my mind now, huh?” you question, mirroring her stance, arms crossed. “Because I’d stay out of there if I were you, sweetheart. It’s a scary place. I’m fucked up, don’t you know?”  
  
“No, no you-“   
  
You cut her off by stepping forward and rubbing your thumb over her lip. The blood is coagulating and is sticky, but it still smears on your skin. You hold it up for her to look at.  
  
“ _Yes_. I am,” you say, looking directly into her eyes. “And whatever psycho-bullshit you use to make yourself feel better about wanting me, forget it. Because I don’t want you.”  
  
Tears prick at your eyes and you know you need to get out, quickly. You turn and yank the door open and make it over the threshold. But she catches you again, pulling your shirt and turning you round. Your lips meet hers perfectly, as if the move had been choreographed. This time you don’t push her away, you let her kiss you because it’ll be the last time she does.   
  
As she draws away, breathless and tearful, she pushes you, hard and you stumble back. She steps back into the house and turns to face you, eyes brimming with hurt and frustration.  
  
“When you’re ready to stop lying to yourself, Terri, you can give me a call. Otherwise, stay away from me.”  
  
The door slams closed, the noise echoing in your ears. As you turn to walk back to the car, you find that your vision is blurred, your mind in turmoil.  
  
It was never meant to be like this.


End file.
